Pole Dancing Isn't A Women's Sport
by SibylVanestiel
Summary: Slash. Dean tries to take Cas to the strippers, but the angel has other ideas.


"Dean, I just don't understand your interest in me seeing the naked female form, especially the perverted changes most of those women have put themselves through. It didn't work out very well the last time." Cas squints up at Dean from his seat at the table.

Throwing his jacket over his shoulder, the hunter cocks his head and shifts his weight, giving his angel a skeptical look.

"If at first you don't succeed... ok, look, I am not letting you go on any longer without at least hitting up the strippers. We are not going to our deaths without you at getting a lap dance. Maybe one for me while we're at it. I get that you're not ready to go all the way there yet, but come on?"

Dean's gestures and non-question questions are typical but still puzzling.

"I don't believe we are in immediate danger." Castiel replies with no hint of being swayed.

"Cas, this is us we are talking about. When are we not in mortal danger?"

"Point taken." The angel's small nod is all he is willing to conceed, feeling a bit deflated, but not defeated.

"What do I have to do to convince you? A naked body grinding in your lap, sounds good to me."

Dean's smile widens as his eyes drift off to a spot on the wall, lost in his thoughts for a moment.

Cas is still seated, slightly puckering his lips in that way he does when processing a complicated humanism. Realization dawns on him and he turns his focus back to the man in front of him.

Rising from the chair and turning it around, he shoves it up against the legs of his friend, forcing Dean's knees to bend and seat himself in response.

"What the hell-"

The trench coat is already on the floor as Dean registers what it is he is witnessing, praying they won't be interrupted.

Slowly the angel loosens his tie to free it from his neck, laying it over the hunter's shoulders and lightly pulling his neck closer to his own face.

"There are rules: I can touch you, but you can't touch me. I think that is the standard policy."

Releasing the strip of fabric so it hangs down Dean's chest, Cas continues his display. Slowly, deliberately unfastening the buttons on his crisp white shirt, he moves in a slight sway and sucks his index finger while looking through his lashes at the man seated before him.

Dean's face is still somewhat unreadable, which would have been unsettling if not for the noticeable shift in the slack of his jeans. So the angel continues, pleased that his years of watching humans were paying off, despite his ability to grasp all the nuances.

The buckle on his belt slid free with the small tug he gave, slipping it from the loops and letting it trail to the ground, joining his shirt in a pool of clothing beside him. The hunter was now slack jawed as his angel unzipped his fly and turned his back to reveal his perfectly shaped ass.

Licking his lips, looking for any word to form in his mouth, Dean was starting to feel a blush rise to his face as he took in the naked backside of his friend, hips rocking in slow circles as the angel turned back to face him.

The curve of Cas's cock drew Dean's focus, and his hands; until Cas batted them away as he straddled Dean's fully clothed legs. There was no skin to skin contact, just the warmth of the angel's body coming through. Grinding himself into the hunter, Castiel feels the twitch of Dean's own stiffness against his, but he remains unflustered. Rubbing together in opposite directions, a rhythm they improvised, is making it hard for the man to keep his hands at his sides.

Brushing his fingertips against the angel's, he catches the attention he seeks. Holding the eye contact as their noses nearly touch, he sighs a ragged sigh.

Cas takes the sound to mean Dean is ready for more. Bringing his hands forward, he caresses his friend's chest through the heavy layers the hunter wears as he leans in closer and teases the man's ear with his tongue.

"Cas..." Dean breathes. "I'm pretty sure they don't allow that in any club."

"I don't think they allow this either."

The buttons of Dean's fly spread as Cas's hand reaches inside to grasp the hardness between them. Taking his cock in hand and pressing their flesh together the angel rocks faster and faster as Dean's head rolls back and his breath catches. Looking down to see the angel's hand working away at them both is too much for the man, as he bucks up, pulling Cas to him with both arms he feels his release with the angel's breath on his neck. Cas comes a moment later when Dean whispers to him, "Let go."

Arching away as he moans in answer, panting and spent, a smile forms on his lips. "You still want to go out?"

"Never." Dean answers with a kiss.


End file.
